Hogwarts, Meet Hedge Pig
by August Mayhem
Summary: A slightly more conniving Harry puts up with Umbridge for the first three months before deciding to do away with her.  How book 5 should have gone :p


Posted: Jan. 13

Edited : Jan 14 and May 2

** .x.**

It was only October, and already Harry was hating his classes. It wasn't that it was their OWL year and Hermione was being pushier than usual, she did that often enough that for her to _not_be bossing him and Ron around would be a minor miracle.

It wasn't that all the professors were being extremely picky about everything involved in their classes as it would determine whether those courses continued at the higher level.

It wasn't even Snape, who was a complete and utter arse at his best, who still made snide remarks about his fame and disregard for rules, and how his father was an utter jackass, etc., freely giving out detentions for imagined slights, and docking points with great fervor.

No, oddly enough, the class he was currently hating, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. While normally his favourite, and indeed, something that Harry excelled at, this year's professor managed to turn an interesting topic into mind-numbing boredom. More so than Binns; which said a lot about their ability to teach. A large dollop of hatred finished off the mix.

Dumbledore had hired a Ministry worker to teach DADA for Harry's fifth year. Thank god it wasn't actually by choice; the Ministry had enforced it, given the events that transpired in the past four years. Unfortunately, the person they had sent was Under-Secretary to the Minister himself.

Dolores Umbridge, lovingly known as Umbitch to the student population, was an idiot. She didn't actually know anything that she was supposed to teach, what she did teach was propaganda, she wasn't likeable, she was a bigoted bitch, and she looked like a fecking toad.

She also _loved_ the colour pink, and kittens.

Harry, in the span of a month, had managed to meet and surpass the record for number of detentions handed out in the shortest period of time. It was an unofficial record amongst students. Had Harry actually done anything to deserve them, he imagined Sirius would be proud. As he hadn't, he practiced his English, by staying calm and carrying on. And griping alongside Ron, who also had his fair share of detentions.

A multitude of students now had words scarred across their hands. And all the fifth years could now brew a basic healing potion while fast asleep. They had taken to sharing it out amongst the younger years, all the while calming tears.

Unfortunately, Umbitch had managed to get approval for some flowery-worded ordinate that allowed her to check through in-coming and out-going mail. Children, whose parents sent little trinkets to help with whatever the problem was, suddenly found those treasures confiscated and more detentions burdened on them.

Harry was singularly glad that he wasn't allowed to play quidditch this year, as had he had those practices, plus Hermione's studying, homework, and all his detentions, he wouldn't have any time for sleeping. The Twins were perfect evidence of this.

On one particular day, probably a Monday, Harry had his most recent detention with the Bitch herself. Really, between her and Snape it was a wonder Harry had any time to do his homework at all!

He was handed the traditional blood quill for these detentions and when Umbitch turned to go back to her desk (she was too short to look down on him if she was near him. And the distance allowed her more elevation, to her thinking) Harry employed the most basic of sleight of hand he learned growing up with the Dursleys.

He should thank them, really. They were horrible people, but he learned so many things from them. Or rather, because of them. Then again, they were horrible people…so maybe not. An illusioned quill that was chosen specifically because it had similar dimensions and shape, took its place in Harry's slim hands.

**.x.**

As a blood quill used the writer's blood as ink, its replacement had to be a self-inking quill. Except that in all the testing he'd done in the past weeks, red ink, no matter how he fiddled with it, did not look like blood. And it certainly didn't smell like blood. It was unlikely that the Bitch actually kept any of the parchments used, but in the off chance she did, or maybe just kept his because she hated him so much, she would notice that it didn't give off that faint metallic odour. At least she should, most would; but it was likely that all the inbreeding had divested her of certain brain capacities.

As a solution to this problem Harry had tried conjuring a medium sized animal, or several small ones, knocked it out and used a spell he'd found in the library to turn the blood to mist and pull it out through the body's cavities (Hermione was right, the library was useful; though she probably wasn't referring to the restricted section when she made that claim). Except that the blood of a conjured animal was also conjured and it only lasted for a short while.

With that potential avenue gone and no new ideas how to get his little project furthered, Harry fell into a slump, letting the healing potion do its work on his scarred hand. Though he did ask Colin to start documenting everyone's detention scars with his camera.

Turns out the little brat had been doing so all along. He'd created an album of his year's wounds, showing a progression of the injuries. He didn't develop those is the magic potion that would allow them to move. He did use the potion on Harry's because Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived and his idol.

Interestingly, when that particular picture came out, it showed that night's detention with Umbridge moving into the frame every so often. Curious about that odd twist, Colin experimented with photos of everyone in fifth year who'd had a detention with Umbridge. Only the Golden Trio's turned out the same way. Wondering about that curiosity, as it seemed no one else's photo would do that, Colin added them to his album.

It was during his research to find out how blood quills worked, so that he might emulate them somehow, that Harry found a basic history of said quills. Four centuries prior, they were used only for contracts, be they nuptial, financial or business. The magic in the blood held those involved fast to the written word and prevented backstabbing that was notorious at the time.

They were profitable for the next three and a half centuries. But the rise of Grindelwald and later Voldemort made the banning of blood magic in all forms pertinent. And when several victims were found to have been placed under the imperious and either will their monies away or torture themselves and eventually bleeding to death, the quills were outlawed and marked as a Grade A Restricted Item. Meaning that anyone who had one would be immediately imprisoned in Azkaban.

So Umbitch was either acting independently of the Ministry, who had no knowledge of her possession of the quill, or she was acting with their backing. In both situations, parents would be clamouring for blood. It was on Harry's instructions that Colin would send the pictures to everyone when the curse finally broke the Bitch's hold on Hogwarts. Maybe for once the Wizarding populace would come together as one and fight for their rights. Maybe. Not likely.

**.x.**

The idea on how to make the pseudo-blood quill work came during Charms class. It was kind of a history lesson at the same time. Professor Flitwick was telling them about many magical tribes in Africa who had to walk long distances to get fresh water. To combat this, the Meeting of Shamans had come together to find a solution. The idea was simple, the magic not so much. It took them almost two years before they managed to create a chanted spell that would connect a village well, dug at the centre of a village, to a fresh water source.

But each well could only hold a certain amount of water and village areas were constantly flooded, until a visiting Shaman who'd come to learn the new chant, and accidentally gave too much in a spell to create a space that was bigger inside that it appeared. As his body crumbled, his blood crystallized into a glittering jewel that was magically sealed to the wall of the well.

It was studied intensely and eventually replicated. As the centuries passed, the chant to connect a well and a source, and the magick involved in enlarging small spaces simplified. They became what wizard-kind now knows as the NeverEnding spell, spoken in Latin of course, as that was the conquering empire that spread across Europe.

The other spell had fallen into disuse by most magic users as aqua ducts became popular, and later damming, then city sewage and finally indoor plumbing came about. However it was still used by the few wizards who travelled around and weren't always by a fresh supply of water. And of course, those who lived in deserts had been intensely grateful for the knowledge of this spell. So grateful in fact, that a lowly half-blood, third in line no less, had managed to create enormous wealth and status for himself upon returning home and eventually sired one of the most prominent families in Europe today. But that, of course, was a story for another day.

"I bet you anything that family is Malfoy's."

"I like that, Malfoy, poor and unpure."

"Oh honestly you two! There's no evidence whatsoever that points to that conclusion. It's probably a wizarding myth, not actual history. The way Professor Flitwick finished the retelling lends itself to my theory. He didn't say it as fact, he was telling a story."

"Actually Hermione, if you think about it, France is pretty well known as the Land of Pleasures, be they in art, music, beauty, whatever. The French are known more for their Arts than anything else. And they are usually seen as carnal experts."

Hermione flushed, though whether that was from the wording or because someone was talking back to her and telling her she was wrong, Harry didn't know.

"Now, we know that Veela are fairly prominent in France, much more so than in England anyway. So say a Veela had managed to enthrall a nobleman, and she gave birth to a son. Potions and spells would reveal the child as his, and considering the time, the birth probably created quite a stir in the community. Unable to kill the child, you never know when you needed another son in those days, the boy was kept, but resented, and kicked out as soon as he was old enough, so say about 16.

"As he _had_ been taught and learned these spells, he could travel about and make his own way in the world. Suppose he travelled a little too far and came to the Arab countries, which unlike Europeans and their trade routes, had no contact with the Africans, I imagine the people there would find him exotic with his pale features. While not necessarily superior or more advanced, his magick was different than theirs. And since spells had simplified so much, what he could do with great ease, took great effort on their part. I imagine they'd offer a fair amount of wealth to learn those simpler spells. Seeing as he's French and a noble, he probably managed to swindle them of more than they thought. With his riches, and supposedly superior European magic, he could lock the money away and escape in the night.

"Having grown up in a noble house, no matter how underprivileged he was compared to the Heir, he'd still have more education than most and could most likely manage a profitable livelihood. Assume years have passed, and he's now an actual adult, having finally grown into his Veela looks, and has amassed the money to go with his heritage.

"If it were me and the Dursleys, hell yeah I'd go back and flaunt it in their faces. So he goes home and captures the heart of the woman his eldest brother is supposed to marry. After beggaring his old family and using the girl before leaving her to the Heir, he reveals who exactly he is and goes to a new country with a bride more beautiful than they could've imagined.

"Now since he is French and hates his family, of course he would come to England. Now what family had ridiculous wealth and all look extremely pretty? The Malfoys! The Mister and Missus look like siblings really, and if I didn't know about the tapestry Sirius has, I'd think they _were_ blood related. Closer than they already are anyway. Haven't you noticed that Malfoy spends an ungodly amount of time on his looks? He's far too pretty to be a guy, he's effeminate really. And if you look at the Malfoy Geneology, every single one of them is blond. Kinda like how Weasleys are red."

"Harry that is beyond ridiculous! Everything you've just said is speculation. And just because the Malfoys are blond doesn't mean they're Veela, part or otherwise!"

Serious blue eyes looked at her. "Kinda sounds like you're defending Malfoy Hermione…"

Harry interrupted the inevitable, and explosive, argument. "Maybe so Hermione, but if you'd noticed at the World Cup, every single one of those Veela were blonde. I even asked Fleur about it after the Second Task. Every magic user with more than 5% Veela blood is blond, no matter what the parents look like. Her father has black hair. Her mother has brown. Both had enough Veela blood in them to create two blonde-haired Veela daughters. Face it, the Malfoys fit the bill for that story!"

And of course everyone behind them heard this debate as they walked through the halls to drop their books off before dinner. And like with all interesting and possibly not true things at Hogwarts, every student had heard about it in under an hour. It was THE topic to talk about at dinner.

Luckily for Harry, the story had travelled through so many mouths, that it couldn't be traced back to him. Unfortunately, Malfoy would blame him anyway. But until then, the Golden Trio (the male half really) enjoyed the humiliated and embarrassed flush on the blond ponce's face and his adamant refusals that it wasn't his family Flitwick had been talking about.

**.x.**

Finally all the elements of Harry's plan came together. He'd poured a significant amount of magic into a conjured pig and created the link between the source (the pig's blood) and the well (his illusioned quill), stuck the animal to the wall above his bed, silenced it and then turned it invisible and finished it with a Notice-Me-Not charm.

The Bitch didn't notice a thing wrong in Harry's next week of detentions. He'd written his punishments, faked the agony on his face and the slow, hesitant writing he'd been utilizing for the almost three months previous.

Despite his own relief from the scarring, others did not have this, and having to listen to the Toad-Woman three times a week for two hours each time was really getting on his last nerve. And she was gaining momentum in consolidating her powerbase with her edicts and the creation of her little enforcer group. Malfoy joined, of course. He really was a power slut wasn't he? Always going to whoever has the most. Pathetic.

Then he got a blessing from the Powers That Be who are lovingly fickle and enjoy change. Umbitch ordered him into her office. She was going to dose him with veritaserum. It was here that Harry learned of her love for kittens. Her disgustingly pink walls were covered, literally covered, in plates of all sizes. Each with an animated picture of a cat in the middle. They kept an incessant drone of meows and purrs.

Too horrified by her office, Harry barely tried to resist the truth potion and ended up with another week of detention (totaling 11….somehow he managed to get three on Saturday after each meal, and two on Sunday), that would (supposedly) help correct his behaviour and thoughts regarding the dreaded You-Know-Who and his Non-Return.

Upon his release, he spent the rest of the night shuddering and desperately trying to block out the memories of those pink walls. Meows haunted his ears for days afterward.

**.x.**

It was the first week of December, and as a way to show their magical friends some "muggle", some younger year muggleborns had drawn a few of the classic American cartoons and got an older year to animate them on paper. Between fifteen of them, with the help of the Weasley Twins, they brought Wile E Coyote and the Road Runner to life. They weren't expecting the paper drawings to pull themselves off the paper and chase each other around the Gryffindor common room. Acme explosions, trains, and black holes were rampant through the whole tower and everyone shared in great amusement that night.

Harry cornered the Twins and asked them how they'd managed to do that. He may have mentioned the Dursleys as a way to soften them up by sparking their righteous anger; they held a fiery hate for his relatives ever since they broke him out of his barred room a few years back.

With the spell well in hand Harry spent the next day looking up creatures that were large and terrifying. If he could get Dean, a talented artist, to re-create them, then charm them and put them in a stasis jar with a time-sensitive release, he could give his 'family' a Christmas gift they would never forget.

On Wednesday when Umbitch dragged him into her lair once again, he shivered and cringed, dreading the petrifying images of cute, cuddly kittens stuck to nausea-inducing pink. However, upon seeing the animated plates, it brought to mind the spell the House had created last week. He fought back a terrifying grin.

Growing up, he'd heard stories about people, usually elderly women, who owned far too many cats and when they died, the cats would eat the body when they got hungry. Dudley had been a fan of that happening to Ms. Figg. Considering he now knew she had known who he was the entire time and was sending reports to Dumbledore, he couldn't help but agree with a certain level of vindictiveness.

It would be easy enough to do the same to Umbitch. Except that he'd need her to be dead before the cats would eat her….Hmmm…the possibilities. He spent the next week plotting and frequently called on Dobby, his good and faithful, 'I-would-do-anything-for-you' house- elf friend.

**.x.**

It took five long years, but Harry finally read Hermione's favourite book; _Hogwarts, A History_. Within its self-updating and ancient pages, he found the staff rules for leaving over the winter holiday. Summers they were required to take off, but winter breaks meant the professors had a choice in remaining at the castle or not. They didn't have to do anything other than notify the current headmaster that they were leaving; a note was optional, most did it face to face.

He set Dobby to obtaining a few samples of Umbridge's writing and worked on a letter that would hopefully be indistinguishable from her actual notes.

On the pretext of having a snowball fight before everyone went home, Harry began a game with his year, the Twins, and Colin and his brother Dennis. It was eventually evolved into a capture the flag styled game where they roamed about the grounds trying to take the other team out. Student from all years and houses joined in and it became an epic battle. He had Ron and Hermione, the other side had the Twins.

Using Ron's strategic planning skills, Harry began a roundabout way that would take him past the greenhouses and hopefully into the opposing territory where he could come in from behind. Once out of the view of him teammates, the old invisibility cloak came on, and learning from his Third Year, Harry muttered a spell that removed his tracks in the snow.

He easily snuck into Greenhouse Ten which housed muggle plants that were used in potions. Locating some rosary peas, Harry harvested a few seeds and shucked them inside a jar before bespelling both the size and the durability. The jar went into a secured pocket and Harry resumed his covert operation against the Twins.

**.x.**

The day ended with the Twins' team winning, and Harry managing to capture both twins, but losing one on the way back to his own base. Classes had finished the day before and the train left Sunday, bright and early.

Harry was travelling with Ron and Hermione to spend Christmas break with Sirius at Grimmauld Place. Remus was supposed to pick them up. Finishing his packing, Harry left the tower on the pretence of seeing Hedwig off. He would actually go see her, but he needed some alone time where no one could overhear.

Quietly calling for Dobby in the Owlery, Harry stroked Hedwig's soft breast feathers that were the purest of white. When Dobby appeared, Harry handed over two jars with explicit instructions on what to do with them, when to use them, and when to give the note to Dumbledore.

If all went well, Monday night Dobby would add the seeds, cooked or raw, to some part of Umbridge's plate_ only_. There could be no traces of his handling them, and in the case of an autopsy, the seeds wouldn't be indicated. Not that the wizarding world did autopsies. Not that there would be a body left to examine either.

Early Tuesday morning, Dobby would disguise himself as Umbridge, with her trunk, mimic her magical signature, and walk to Hogsmeade before 'apparating' home. Returning to Hogwarts, Dobby would send the note to Dumbledore via the slowest owl in the owlery, and then go to Umbridge's office.

The still body of the Minster's Under-Secretary would be there and Dobby would take special care to make sure that the paper in the second jar was placed exactly in the centre of the room. The time sensitive spells would activate and the kittens would literally come to life. The accidental Road Runner and Wile E Coyote were still running around two weeks later, so Harry didn't have to worry about the spell lasting. Harry also made sure that Dobby knew to lock all entry and exit points so nothing could get in, and the cats couldn't get out.

If the felines hadn't disappeared by the last day of break, Dobby would have to banish them back to their plates. The evidence of Umbridge's poisoning would be gone, her remains eaten, the bones Vanished, and Hogwarts free of her control.

Harry boarded the train with his two best friends, a glowing smile on his face.

"Looking forward to seeing Sirius Harry?"

"Indeed, I am! It's looking to be the best Christmas I've ever had, Ron!"

**.x.**

**END**

AN: Changed a few things, edited again. Hope it's better!


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